


Kodachrome

by Holly (spaciousbear)



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Moving On, Photography, Porn with Feelings, Post-Side Story: Garden of Light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-07 08:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17957195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaciousbear/pseuds/Holly
Summary: Vulnerability. It was what had made Eiji’s photos of Ash so compelling, how he’d drawn softness from something that seemed so impenetrably hard. With Ash, he’d been able to uncover gentleness and joy, because those were the kinds of things Ash chose to hide. The things that made him human. Sing’s secrets were human too, but far more primal.Eiji asks Sing if he can take his photo, but doing so reveals more than Sing had intended.





	Kodachrome

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Banana Fish Smut Week, using the Day 1 prompt "Photography". 
> 
> I'm a sucker for Sing and Eiji finding happiness and having mutual, requited feelings for each other post-Garden of Light, so please take note if you prefer the angstier side of things. <3

“Can I take your photo?”

The question pulled Sing out of whatever thoughts had been churning through his idle mind and back to the present. Across the table, Eiji sat with a steaming mug of coffee between his hands and almost at his lips, as though the question had interrupted his own actions as well. His eyes were fixed on Sing, waiting.

“Um. Right now?”

The request wasn’t unusual but the question was out of the ordinary for Eiji. With regard to his work, he tended to seize opportunities for candor when he saw them, which often meant taking photos whenever the mood struck. Sing was often the subject in such photos; there was a standing consent there that Eiji hadn’t questioned until now.

“It doesn’t need to be now.” Eiji let the mug hover in front of his mouth before setting it down again, quiet.

“Of course it’s fine. I mean… you take photos all the time. I’m not even sure why you’re asking me.”

Eiji took his time in answering, and for a minute Sing thought that he was ignoring him completely.

“When do you feel most yourself, Sing?”

Another question that seemed out of the blue but was clearly probing for a specific response. Sing lifted his own coffee cup to his lips to buy a moment’s thinking, the lukewarm bitterness now tasteless in his mouth.

“I’m not sure I understand your question. I don’t think I’m ever _not_ myself, Eiji,” he said finally.

“Ah, well, I mean it more like… when do you feel most… vulnerable?”

Sing stopped there, stopped sipping at his coffee and set it down, stopped tapping his foot in anxious thoughtfulness. The answer, he imagined, was when Eiji looked at him with that sorrowful distance that peeked out from behind his eyes just now - but that wasn’t it. Not quite, anyway.

“When I’m alone,” he said instead. “In bed. Thinking.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was as honest as he could afford to be.

“Can I take a photo of you there?”

Eiji watched him with bright, open curiosity and Sing shrugged his shoulders in response. He wasn’t going to deny Eiji such a simple, harmless request - he doubted he’d be able to even if he wanted.

“Of course, anything you want.”

* * *

 

Lying on his bed in broad daylight with Eiji there, his hands moving every so often to adjust a setting on his camera, was uncomfortable. But he also wasn’t quite sure this was what Eiji was looking for when he asked for Sing’s permission to take photos. Eiji, on the other hand, seemed imbued with confidence, a self-assuredness Sing had been seeing in him more and more recently. Looking to break his own sense of awkwardness, he turned to his side and propped his head up with the palm of his hand. He remained still in this posed sarcasm for a minute as he watched Eiji fuss with his camera.

“This isn’t working, Eiji.”

“You are uncomfortable because I am here,” Eiji frowned at him, concern showing on his face. “Would you like for me to stop?”

“I might not understand what you’re trying to accomplish here, but I’m not bothered. I want you to get whatever it is that you’re looking for. It’s more that lying in bed wearing jeans and a t-shirt doesn’t make much sense for anyone.”

“Well, you can always get changed,” Eiji said with a gentle laugh. “This is meant to be natural. What would you normally wear to bed?”

Sing sat up, his smile a little devious as he raised his eyebrows.

“Probably not a good idea, unless you want to see me in my boxers - not everyone wears a full pajama set to bed like an eighty-year-old man.”

“I think they’re the most comfortable,” Eiji said through an easy chuckle. “I want you to be comfortable, Sing. Maybe you should change?”

It wasn’t a challenge, but the comment compelled Sing to hoist himself back to a sitting position and pull his shirt off in compliance. This was fine; Eiji had seen him shirtless countless times in their years sharing an apartment, Sing often emerging from a post-workout shower with a towel around his waist while Eiji prepared a meal in the kitchen. This was no different. It wasn’t until he had fully stripped down to his boxers that he did start to feel exposed.

He stretched out onto the bed and closed his eyes, he tried to imagine exactly what it was Eiji wanted out of this. Instead, he found himself thinking about why he chose this location so easily when Eiji asked as the sound of the camera faded into soft static in the back of his mind.

It was here that he found himself after hours of scouring through the files on Ash’s computer, here that he tried to find rest even on nights he could hear Eiji weeping openly in the next room. _Another click of the camera._

It was here that Sing held Eiji's letter in his hands, let it weigh down on him, and revisited any time his thoughts strayed and he needed to remind himself of his place.  _The sound of footsteps as Eiji moved to adjust the lighting near the bedside._

It was here that he entertained thoughts that he knew were wrong, shouldn’t be allowed to have, alone here in this bed and wishing he wasn’t. _The sound of the camera again, so much closer now, Eiji standing just beside the bedside, so fucking close._

And when he had those thoughts, shameful as they were, he imagined someone who was both uncomfortably close and impossibly far from him.

"Please try to relax."

Vulnerability. It was what had made Eiji’s photos of Ash so compelling, how he’d drawn softness from something that seemed so impenetrably hard. With Ash, he’d been able to uncover gentleness and joy, because those were the kinds of things Ash chose to hide. The things that made him human. Sing’s secrets were human too, but far more primal.

The thought prompted a heated blush and Sing could feel Eiji watching him with interest. When he opened his eyes, the artistic distance in Eiji’s expression seemed to have dissipated, replaced instead by… well, Sing couldn’t quite tell what.

It didn’t feel like simple vulnerability anymore, with Eiji watching him like this, photographing him in this element, it felt voyeuristic. He turned away, and there was silence as Eiji paused his motions.

“Are you okay?”

Sing didn’t respond to him right away, and there was a quiet rustle as Eiji approached, placed his camera down on the bedside table, and touched Sing’s back. The contact drew a long, irritated sigh out of Sing, who finally turned back to face Eiji. He backed away a few paces, his face impassive again and quirked in concern, but whatever Sing had glimpsed in his expression earlier was gone.

“Eiji, what’s even the point of this anyway?”

Eiji was quiet, and Sing sat at the edge of the bed, the answer he expected to hear already formulated in his head. It was an idea he was testing out for a new collection of photos. It was an attempt to recreate his most successful work. It was a way to recapture the magic he’d found in Ash’s portrait, and it was failing because Sing _wasn’t_ _Ash_.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Eiji admitted, and Sing’s planned response caught in his throat, halted by surprise. Eiji continued regardless.

“I remember when I first met you. You were overwhelming - so full of passion and fire.” Sing let his mind wander back to when he could first recall seeing Eiji, both of them sitting in a cold and dingy jail cell, and he let out a soft laugh in response.

“That Sing was a hardheaded fourteen-year-old kid. I’ve grown up a lot since then.”

“Maybe. But I feel like I have not seen you in a very long time, Sing. You smile and laugh like you are wearing a mask. You try to make yourself into something else, something you are not. I thought - if we took away everything else, if I took the exact right photo, maybe I could see _you_ again.”

The words were a heavy anchor around his heart and Sing felt himself sinking as his resolve began to crumble. His eyes were wet and his mouth full of things he wanted to say, _couldn’t ever say_. Naked and vulnerable and still hiding.

“Sing,” Eiji cautioned another attempt. Sing looked up at him and the distant look in his eyes had faded once more, his pain apparent. Eiji never hid his suffering; he didn’t need to.

Sing stood and made several long strides to where Eiji was. He didn’t hesitate - he leaned into Eiji and pressed his lips to Eiji’s downturned mouth. It was stronger than he intended, the force of his motion causing Eiji to stumble backward as Sing hooked an arm around his waist to help balance him. Eiji’s mouth slackened just enough for his lips to part as Sing probed, cautiously, with his tongue.

Realization hit and Sing pulled back with a jolt. Eiji stared back at him with widened eyes - startled, perhaps, but not seeming surprised. After a moment, even that was replaced by a quiet clarity.

“There you are. The Sing I remember,” he whispered. Eiji’s gaze held no anger but instead the sorrowful relief of someone who had been reunited with a lost friend.

Sing’s head was light and his stomach roiled with a thick current of regret. With what little self-control he had left, he took a step back.

“Eiji, I’m so sorry. That was… completely out of line, I shouldn’t have done that, I’m-”

“You have been thinking about this for a long time?”

There was a silence that crackled between them like an electric current.

“Yes. But you knew that already.”

Eiji's gaze held steady, even as his eyes softened into something that resembled guilt.

“For a long time, I was afraid to acknowledge your feelings. You tried so hard to keep it to yourself all this time.”

Sing wanted to argue with him, tell Eiji that he bore no responsibility for Sing’s own feelings, but Eiji placed a hand against his cheek and pulled him into a second, gentle kiss. And something inside of Sing broke, the dam that had been holding him together, keeping him at the proper distance for all this time finally collapsed. The kiss deepened between them and Sing couldn’t bring himself to pull away this time.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Sing breathed through the kiss, every nerve in his body fighting the logic that he was voicing, each muscle urging him to push further, to claim every touch of his lips he’d been craving. His anxious arousal, warming in his gut, must have shown in his eyes as Eiji pulled back to speak.

“Sing,” he said, his voice stern and unyielding. “You always want to do what is best for me. But this I can decide for myself.”

Eiji’s fingers traced along the line of Sing’s jaw, traveled further back until they were buried in Sing’s hair, urging him forward. Sing melted into the kiss, the heat of Eiji’s mouth, open and slick, against his own. Eiji’s hands moved, untangling themselves from Sing’s hair and crawling down his spine before he took Sing’s hand and guided it until his fingers dipped just beneath his shirt.

Eiji’s eyes burned into him from beneath dark lashes and Sing abandoned all resolve, pulling Eij’s shirt off with reckless haste. Eiji guided him again, offering silent permission for each article of clothing he discarded until they were both fully stripped and caught back into an embrace, evidence of Eiji’s shared arousal pressed against him.

Sing drank in each kiss with greed and guided their bodies with urgency towards the bed. Eiji allowed himself to be moved easily, for Sing to coax his steps backward, to push him onto the mattress, flat on his back. Only then did they break apart and Eiji retreated further onto the bed until his back was to the headboard, eyes beckoning. Sing took a step forward to follow and Eiji tilted his head in curious examination.

“That look… I have never seen you like this. I almost wish I could photograph you now.”

“Go ahead. You can,” Sing heard himself say through a haze of lust, his voice a hoarse, throaty whisper. To his surprise, Eiji reached to the bedside, where he had abandoned his camera, and picked it up again. He propped his arms against his knees as he focused the camera.

Sing didn’t slow his approach even as the sound of the shutter sounded. He placed a knee on the edge of the bed and began to crawl towards Eiji. He wondered what he must look like through his eyes, through the shield of the camera lens, as he prowled towards him like a hungry tiger. There was another click, and Sing moved closer. The camera was covering his face, but Sing opted instead to move beneath it, between Eiji’s legs, and gently let his tongue run up the underside of his cock.

A sound, somewhere between a shuttered gasp and a moan emerged as the camera slid from Eiji’s hand and rolled down the cascading pile of bedsheets onto the floor. Sing repeated the motion once more, Eiji’s moan a little quieter as he dug his fingers into the sheets beneath him and balled them into fists. Finally, Sing took the head into his mouth fully. He worked the length of Eiji's cock with his hand as his head bobbed up and down over whatever of the length he could fit into his mouth. Eiji squirmed under his touch and before Sing could move any further, he could feel Eiji’s hands pulling him up, chewing on his bottom lip as he watched Sing in anticipation.

“Kiss me.”

Sing complied, climbing the rest of the way up Eiji’s body, acutely aware of how much smaller he felt beneath him like this, and pressed into him with another kiss. Eiji’s hips bucked up into him and Sing could feel the painful throbbing between his own legs increase with each bit of contact.

“Fuck, Eiji…” he hissed through his breath.

"Fuck me," Eiji moaned. For a long moment, Sing was sure he had heard him wrong; those words, those sounds were nothing he imagined coming out of his mouth, even in the recesses of his own fantasies. But when he looked at him, Eiji's eyes were hooded with desire and want, and Sing simply nodded his silent assent.   
  
Sing took particular care with Eiji, as slow and gentle with his body as he might be with fragile porcelain. Positioned between his legs, he kissed at the delicate skin of his inner thigh, he searched until he found the sweet spot that left Eiji boneless and relaxed under his touch.

Sing pressed a finger against Eiji’s entrance, teasing at it until Eiji’s impatient moan and a gentle thrust forward of his hips encouraged Sing to push into him. Eiji bit back a moan, his body tensing briefly before relaxing into his presence. Sing took his time, allowing Eiji to get used to the feeling before slowly stretching him. After some time, Eiji was trembling and Sing’s heart stuttered briefly, fearful that he may have actually hurt him.

“Eiji, are you okay?”

“Please, Sing.” Eiji swallowed and raised his head to meet Sing’s eyes. His voice was thick and cheeks tinged a rosy hue. He didn’t have to complete that statement for Sing to understand - he didn’t make him say it and instead moved forward to position his own hard cock at Eiji’s entrance, slowly beginning to push in.

Eiji gasped as Sing entered him, grasped at him and Sing felt aware of every pleasurable nerve in his body firing off, of this new connection between their bodies. The heat around his cock and that tightness in his chest. Eiji was tense again and Sing forced himself to be slow, to pause every so often to lean forward and whisper soothing words in Japanese - this in particular seemed to help ease him and shortly after Eiji would nod his assent for Sing to continue.

When he was sure Eiji was ready, he began to move, hips pushing forward in languid, slow motions. Their mouths reconnected into a desperate kiss, and Sing wanted to drink up each and every whimper and moan his movements elicited. His mouth traveled down Eiji’s jaw and then to his neck, eager to touch every inch of his skin.

His thoughts evaporated, replaced instead by the encompassing sounds of their labored breathing, the touch of warm mouths and curious hands. As Sing felt himself approaching the edge, he let one wandering hand search until it found Eiji's erection, wrapping around it and offering a few rough strokes. It didn’t take long for Eiji to reach his release, arching his back and digging his fingers into Sing’s back as he came. A few shallow, frantic thrusts after and Sing followed, burying his face into the soft skin of Eiji’s neck.

After they pulled apart, disentangled themselves, there was a moment - one moment before they had to deal with the aftermath of their consummation. In the strange calm, Sing spent it watching Eiji’s expression, relaxed and unselfconscious, his long hair splayed around his head like a dark halo. He used that moment to press a gentle kiss against Eiji’s forehead, while he still had the chance, before Eiji could withdraw from him into his familiar grief.

For a while they laid, side by side, quiet and not ready to break the silence. Eiji moved first, shifting to his side and resting his face against Sing’s chest. He was silent for a long time and so it took a minute for Sing to notice the gentle shake of his shoulders and the wet flow against his skin. It might have been as simple as exhaustion or relief, but he was certain it was tears. Sing was too afraid to turn his face upward, to ask - even after this, it felt strangely invasive to do so.

“It was so lonely sometimes,” Eiji murmured into his chest, barely audible.

“Eiji?” Sing began, then paused.

“Having you here all this time… but not really here.”

Guilt threatened to push Sing past the brink of regret, but he shooed it out of his mind. Instead, he tightened his arms around Eiji’s small frame, breathed in the scent of his hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m here now.”

Soon Eiji’s quiet tears were replaced by the soothing rhythm of his breathing. Sing found himself filled with restless energy and so he shifted out from under him, stood, and moved to cover Eiji with the thin sheet they had pushed aside in their haste. As he pulled the sheet over him, Eiji’s camera finally disentangled itself from the pile, and tumbled softly to the floor. Sing picked it up and held it with curiosity. When he turned back to Eiji, he was struck by the sight of him - his lips were swollen and his eyes reddened but his expression peaceful, arms outstretched and reaching out to the emptiness beside him. It was perhaps the most honest, most vulnerable sight he had seen of Eiji in years.

The camera was a heavy reminder in his hands. He brought it up to his eyes, focused it on the peacefully sleeping form on the bed. Sing knew very little about the things Eiji did to capture the magic he could find in a photo, but he did know something about seizing a moment when it presented itself. He took the photo and set the camera back down on the nightstand. Eiji would discover it at some point, when he woke, when he sorted through everything else he had captured.

The emptiness of the void in Eiji’s arms seemed enormous when Sing looked at it from this vantage point. It always had. He wasn’t sure he could fill the space, but maybe that didn't matter, maybe there was enough room for both. He could try, he could be here.

Sing climbed back into the bed and when Eiji’s hands, warm and searching, found him there once more, they held on.


End file.
